The First Councel

I clench my teeth and realize the most obvious thing of all: She doesn’t need me. Still, I give it another go. “For your own sake, get in the car.” No response. “Please, Nora, it’s not funny-whoever he dropped it for is probably watching us right now.” Nothing. “C’mon, there’s no reason to-”

She stops in her tracks and I slam on the brakes. Turning my way, she puts her hands on her hips. “If you want to leave, then leave. I need to know what’s in the envelope.” With that, she climbs over the guardrail and heads up the embankment.

Alone in the car, I watch her disappear. “See you later,” I call out.

She doesn’t answer.

I give her a few seconds to change her mind. She doesn’t. Good, I finally say to myself. This’ll be her lesson. Just because she’s the First Daughter, she thinks she can-There it is again. That pain-in-the-ass title. That’s who she is. No, I decide. Screw that. Forget the title and focus on the person. The problem, however, is it’s impossible to separate the two. For better or worse, Nora Hartson is the President’s daughter. She’s also one of the most intriguing people I’ve met in a long time. And much as I hate to admit it, I actually like her.

“Dammit!” I shout, pounding the steering wheel. Where the hell is my spine?

I rip open the glove compartment, pull out a flashlight, and storm out of the car. Scrambling up the embankment, I find Nora wandering around in the dark. I shine the light in her face and the first thing I see is that grin. “You were worried about me, weren’t you?”

“If I abandoned you, your monkeys would kill me.”

She approaches me and pulls the flashlight from my hands. “The night’s young, baby.”

I glance down at my watch. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Up the hill, I hear something move through the brush and quickly realize that Simon could’ve been meeting someone up there. Someone who’s still here. Watching us. “Do you think… ”

“Let’s just find the envelope,” Nora says, agreement in her voice.

Cautiously walking together, we zigzag up the embankment, which is overflowing with trees. I look up and see nothing but jagged darkness-the treetops hide everything from the sky to the parkway’s lamps. All I can do is tell myself that we’re alone. But I don’t believe it.

“Shine it over here,” I tell Nora, who’s waving it in every direction. As the flashlight rips through the night, I realize we’re going to have to be more systematic about this. “Start with the base of each tree, then work your way upward,” I suggest.

“What if he stuffed it high in a tree?”

“You think Simon’s the tree-climbing type?” She has to agree with that one. “And let’s try to do this fast,” I add. “Whoever he left it for-even if they’re not here now, they’re going to be here any minute.” Nora turns the flashlight toward the base of the nearest tree and we’re once again encased in underwater silence. As we move up the hill, my breathing gets heavier. I’m trying to look out for the envelope, but I can’t stop checking over my shoulder. And while I don’t believe in mental telepathy or other paranormal phenomena, I do believe in the human animal’s uncanny and unexplainable ability to know when it’s being watched. Racing to the top of the embankment, it’s a feeling I can’t shake. We’re not alone.

“What’s wrong with you?” Nora asks.

“I just want to get out of here. We can come back tomorrow with the proper-” Suddenly, I see it. There it is. My eyes go wide and Nora follows my gaze. Ten feet in front of us, at the base of a tree with a Z carved into it, is a single manila envelope.

“Son of a bitch,” she says, rushing forward. Her reaction is instantaneous. Pick it up and rip it open.

“No!” I shout. “Don’t touch… ” I’m too late. She’s got it open.

Nora shines the flashlight down into the envelope. “I don’t believe it,” she says.

“What? What’s in there?”

She turns it upside down and the contents fall to the ground. One. Two. Three. Four stacks of cash. Hundred dollar bills.

“Money?”

“Lots of it.”

I pick up a stack, remove the First of America billfold, and start counting. So does Nora. “How much?” I ask when she’s done.

“Ten thousand.”

“Me too,” I say. “Times two more stacks is forty thousand.” Noticing the crispness of the bills, I again flip through the stack. “All consecutively numbered.”

We nervously look at each other. We’re sharing the same thought.

“What should we do?” she finally asks. “Should we take it?”

I’m about to answer when I see something move in the large bush on my right. Nora shines the flashlight. No one’s there. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.

I pull the envelope from Nora’s hands and stuff the four stacks of bills back inside.

“What’re you doing?” she asks.

“Throw me the flashlight.”

“Tell me why-”